Cuba seemed to be positioned similarly as Americans have poured into the country in the last few years. As I was driven around the streets of Havana in their iconic vintage cars, we passed areas of construction. “A new hotel. It will be beautiful and facing the Malecon too,” my driver explained. The Malecon, considered the family sofa of Old Havana, is a low bearing stone wall that separates the streets from the bay. Every night that I passed by the mile long Malecon, people gathered in large numbers, enjoying a beer, the simplicity of the stars sparkling on the water and music playing in the distance. It was prime real estate for new hotels and more tourist traps, but commercialism tends to drive local traditions away. I let out a heavy sigh, grateful that I had, at least, successfully beat McDonalds to Cuba. But, once I finally return again,
“Another round?” Shamelessly, I wanted to visit with Enrique again and of course claim my 3rd glass of his velvety port. ”Guapa. You are having fun?” Call me guapa one more time, I thought mischievously. “Yes! And I’m going dancing with you tonight!” His eyes widened as he smiled. “Bryan me invita!” I explained in my broken Spanish.
On a solo retreat, when my private grotto became a lipsync stage. Enjoying the breeze and Rihanna’s Love on the Brain in Jamaica.
After a long day’s journey through the sites of Mardrid, the sun was low in the sky as I stumbled upon Mercado de San Miguel. My eyes feasted on the crystal clear glass structure being held up by iron beams winding across the ceiling. Through the walls, you could see produce displayed like a vibrant
If you know me or follow me on social media, then you know how much my family means to me and you know how much I love to travel. Many pegged 2016 as the worst year ever, but for me, it was a year of recovery from 2015. Travelling to Argentina with my family was